


A Devotion to Detail

by basking, Glaciere



Category: Johnny's Entertainment
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-20
Updated: 2013-07-20
Packaged: 2017-12-20 19:23:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/890941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/basking/pseuds/basking, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glaciere/pseuds/Glaciere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tsubasa's face when he saw Hideaki backstage had been worth not sleeping for twenty three hours.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Devotion to Detail

**Author's Note:**

> So! On my way to the airport, I wrote the first section of this and emailed it off to some friends, and then [](http://mii-hazeru.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://mii-hazeru.livejournal.com/)**mii_hazeru** took up the next part, and then I wrote some more, and she finished it off once I had to board the plane. :D Since we finished it, the story's been Joss'd–Takki officially arrived back in Japan a few days after BtF finished its run, sadly. But we're sure he has every performance on DVD, courtesy of multiple cameras stationed around the theater and his manager acting as close-up camera guy. Probably.

Rain drums on the roof as the van pulls out of the garage, heavier than it was when Hideaki arrived. Tsubasa strips off his jacket and moves up to the edge of his seat to slide the window open. The staff outside said there's about thirty fans lined up quietly on the sidewalk waiting to wave goodbye to Tsubasa, so Hideaki leans back in his seat out of their line of sight. He lets go of Tsubasa's hand as an afterthought, since waving kind of calls for it.

Hideaki satisfies himself by stroking the inside of Tsubasa's thigh as he says his goodbyes in English and then Japanese and once more in Spanish. When he leans back into the car, his sleeve and the brim of his cap have water beads clinging to the fabric. With the window shut and the curtain closed on all sides around them and the sound of delightedly laughing fans faded to almost nothing, Hideaki tugs Tsubasa back against his side and leans on his dry shoulder.

Tsubasa finds his hand again and interlaces their fingers with a small sigh. Hideaki rubs his cheek on Tsubasa's sweater and inhales long and deep. He raises his eyebrows at the first touch of lips to his forehead, trying to crease the skin under Tsubasa's mouth. Tsubasa catches on and grins, mouthing Hideaki's eyebrow and then licking a thin stripe through it. Hideaki squeezes his hand and makes a noise of mixed amusement and objection that Tsubasa ignores, moving his unusual string of kisses up to Hideaki's hairline.

Hideaki moves their interlaced hands into Tsubasa's lap and closes the gap between them completely, gently rocking his head to feel Tsubasa's lips graze his forehead. When he feels a change in the pressure against his skin, Hideaki closes his eyes and turns his face up. Just as he's parting his lips to wet them, Tsubasa closes his over the tip of Hideaki's tongue.

He smiles at the timing and lifts his head a bit more to kiss him seriously. Flashes of what he saw tonight make him squeeze Tsubasa's hand tighter and bring their interlaced hands over his own heart.

"So proud of you," he whispers.

Tsubasa nips his lower lip, smiling. "Shh." He squeezes Hideaki's hand back and tugs it up to his face, turning his face away from Hideaki's to kiss his knuckles.

"Hotel's right up ahead!" Moriyama calls through the curtain unnecessarily.

Tsubasa gives Hideaki a dark, promising look before he lets go of his hand. Hideaki smiles ruefully and adjusts his pants.

He's been feeling exhausted for the past three days of rushing to finish filming so he could be back in time. He's sure more than a few people in the filming crew are unhappy with him, but he's also made sure to work at 150%, so he doesn't feel that bad.

Tsubasa squeezes his hand before getting out of the van. Hideaki waits for what seems like half an hour, until someone opens the van's door again and says, "Your room is 505, sir."

If there was ever a thing Hideaki's been less interested in, it's his room number in this particular moment. He nods at the guy and takes his plastic card key, though. He doesn't see the rest of the staff and only digs out his phone when he's in the elevator.

The elevator doors close before Tsubasa answers, so Hideaki presses the fifth floor.

"706," is the only thing Tsubasa says before hanging up. Hideaki presses the seventh floor and waits some more.

The door is unlocked; Hideaki makes sure to lock it after himself. He looks around. Tsubasa's been living here for a couple of days, but probably spent most of the time rehearsing. His half-unpacked suitcase lies open in the corner of the room.

"I do prefer you alive, you know," Tsubasa says fondly, taking Hideaki's travel bag and setting it on the floor. He lifts Hideaki's chin a little with his finger, strokes Hideaki's cheek before kissing him lightly on the mouth, and again, more of a caress than a real kiss. Before they can make it any deeper Tsubasa pushes Hideaki to step back until he bumps into the bed and has to sit down to keep his balance.

"I'm fine," he says. He is. Tsubasa's face when he saw Hideaki backstage had been worth not sleeping for twenty three hours. Hideaki didn't know if he'd be able to get to Osaka in time, so he didn't reserve a ticket, but watching from backstage had it's advantages. Namely, a much better view of Tsubasa's ass. He hopes the cameras he's asked the staff to set up worked fine.

"I can see that," Tsubasa sighs and leans closer. Hideaki must be in serious need of a shower, but Tsubasa doesn't seem to notice. Hideaki, for his part, doesn't feel up to the challenges of navigating the bathroom when his only sources of energy are a coffee he had seven hours again and Tsubasa's hands on him.

"Want me to take care of you tonight, mmm?" Tsubasa grins, fast and fierce, still high from his performance.

Tsubasa lets him take the belt off and steps away, leaving his hands in Hideaki's hair.

"Stay put," he says. "No, wait, get your shirt off."

Hideaki tries to be as clear as he can.

"Tsubasa," he says. "I'm coming once today, and then I'm going to sleep. It's not even a choice." He drags Tsubasa closer, and Tsubasa slides on Hideaki's lap, grinds up and down again. Hideaki tries not to lose his train of thought. "You get to choose the way I come," he offers.

Tsubasa squints at him and seems to decide in a second. "Like this," he says and kisses Hideaki again, both of them making greedy, filthy sounds as Hideaki tries to run his hands over as much of Tsubasa's skin as he can. It's hot to his touch, but he doesn't know who's the one burning up; by the time Tsubasa's hands tug on his jeans he has to grip the base of his cock to stop himself from coming.

"Don't come until I tell you," Tsubasa murmurs in Hideaki's ear, nibbles on his earlobe, sucks on his neck just under it, and doesn't let Hideaki lie back on the bed. "Since you're depriving me after this. Cruel man."

Hideaki can't talk. Hideaki can't think, so he leaves Tsubasa to do as he pleases with him. Right at this moment Tsubasa slides off his lap but stays between his knees, sucks at Hideaki's cock through the grey cotton of his boxers. Hideaki's hands are in Tsubasa's hair, his fingernails grazing the skin sometimes. Tsubasa closes his teeth on the fabric and drags in down a little, until Hideaki gets the idea and takes them off, too.

Tsubasa takes a long moment to get naked. Hideaki feels his cock twitch, buries his fingers in the bed sheet to stop himself from touching it until Tsubasa comes back. His knees are wrapped around Hideaki's thighs, their cocks lined up together, and Hideaki can't stop shuddering, smallest shock waves going through him wherever Tsubasa touches him. Tsubasa drops his head on Hideaki's shoulder, mouths at the skin.

"You took so long," he says.

"I'm sorry." Hideaki lifts his hand up to kiss it, wraps it around both of their cocks, covers the rest with his own hand. Tsubasa's breath is wet and uneven on his skin, and Hideaki matches its rhythm with their hands. Tsubasa's other hand finds its way into his hair again, combing through, dragging his fingertips across the skin. Hideaki's arm hurts from putting both of their weight on it. Tsubasa gains speed, thrusting forward with each stroke, and his fingers, slick with both their precome, burn Hideaki's skin.

"So good," he murmurs, "I'm going to-"

"Yeah," Tsubasa exhales, lifting his head up to say it into Hideaki's mouth, drags his teeth across Hideaki's lower lip. "Go on, come, make me come, do it."

Hideaki jerks hard at his words, hard and fast and their fingers clash together as if in a twisted handshake, until Tsubasa takes his hand away to play with Hideaki's nipples, and Hideaki loses it, his vision going white for a split second. His arm can't hold him any longer, so his back hits the bed at the same time he comes. Tsubasa holds out for a couple more minutes, hunching over Hideaki, with sweat building at his temples and forehead, and Hideaki pulls him closer to lick it away, when Tsubasa comes, finally, and stays still, panting.

Then he collapses, having sense to fall near Hideaki, their legs in a tangle over the bed's edge. Hideaki doesn't feel like moving at all.

"When are we doing this again?" Tsubasa asks after a minute. In about ten he will start feeling twitchy without a shower and then wake Hideaki up when he returns from the bathroom to be annoyed over his sleeping naked atop the covers again, and then he will fuss until Hideaki drags both of their covers over Tsubasa's head to make him shut up.

Hideaki drowns in his thoughts, slowly swimming out of conscience, and the last thing he feels is Tsubasa untangling his fingers from his head.


End file.
